


Uncertainty Entwined

by orchestralstab



Series: Falling [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fluff, Humor, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchestralstab/pseuds/orchestralstab
Summary: Because sex in the storeroom. Apparently that’s a thing now. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m terrible at naming things so I just ended up going with the title of one of favourite cabin music songs from the game (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOYQOO9VQ5Q) and it pretty much works so yay. Anyway, first shared fic!

Avery knows where kissing like this leads. Or, rather, she knows where kissing of a similar vein to this leads. Because, when she really thinks about it, she’s not sure she’s ever been kissed quite like this before. Never had someone kiss her so thoroughly that she’s honest-to-god _breathless_ like in some cheesy romance novel that she most certainly has never read. Trust the only man she’s ever known to be mouthier than Scott ( _No, don’t think about your brother at a time like this, you idiot._ ) to be such a ridiculously good kisser that she feels like she could weep. With joy? No, more like with relief.

“Finally!” she wants to cry to the whole fucking cluster. “Finally a man who knows what he’s doing.”

Liam slides his hand from her hip to the strip of bare skin between the high-rise pants and loose crop shirt that she tends to wear when she’s on the Tempest and not at risk of being seen as “unprofessionally attired” by the Initiative jerks who for some reason care about that sort of thing.

He lifts his mouth from hers and she finds herself actually whining at the loss. “This okay?” he asks as his fingers skirt up ever so slightly underneath her top.

Something about the way he asks – maybe it’s the rumbling timbre of his voice or the mere _fact_ of him asking – sends a bolt of arousal straight between her legs. Before she can embarrass herself by stammering out the _yesyesyesgodyesplease_ that’s running through her head, she nods and slips her hand to the nape of his neck, pulling those beautiful, talented lips back to her own.

He sighs into her mouth when his hand ventures over her ribcage and then up over her breast, and even through the material of her bra the warmth of his hand has her stomach swooping like it did when she was a fumbling seventeen-year-old discovering for the first time what two people could do when they had too much time and raging hormones on their hands. Liam finds her nipple through the cloth and rubs his thumb back and forth across it, gentle and slow, until it stiffens and aches and damn, _goddamn_ it’s not like she’s inexperienced, because she’s not. She’s really not. She has nine notches to her headboard if she’s remembering the count correctly. But that metaphorical bed is back in the Milky Way, so maybe it doesn’t count anymore.

_Definitely doesn’t count anymore_ , she rectifies as she pulls away for a much needed breath only for Liam to draw her back in by taking her bottom lip between both of his and sucking. She’s sure now, no one has ever kissed her like this and that probably means she doesn’t really have any proper idea where kisses like these lead. Because she’s only ever had disappointing sex with a string of disappointing guys who were disappointed with her that they were incapable of being anything other than disappointing.

But she already feels – hopes, prays, deep down _knows_ – that Liam will not be a disappointment. And that fucking terrifies her. Not the thought of the act itself. But what it would mean for her, him, them.

_Ugh stop thinking, idiot. Focus on the hot guy lying on top of you, kissing you senseless. Pleasure now. Ruminations later._

She sighs and arches her back to push her breast more firmly into Liam’s roaming hand, and the little stutter that causes to the otherwise seamless motion of his lips is enough to make her smug. The squeeze he gives is gentle, nowhere near the rough groping she’s accustomed to and a more than welcome change.

He lets out a groan, removes his hand from her shirt and lifts himself up so he’s kneeling between her legs. “Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging at her bra strap where it peeks out from her shirt.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “That’d be hard without getting rid of my top first.”

He frowns. “I could do it, though.”

She laughs. “Oh, no doubt. Just … wait a sec.” She clears her throat. “Uh, SAM?”

SAM’s voice sounds out in the room. “Yes, Pathfinder?”

“Can you lock the storeroom door, please?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

Liam grins. “Good thinking.”

“And, SAM? Could you turn off your lo–” she starts but Liam shakes his head.

“I don’t want you turning off a part of yourself, Avery,” he says. “I’d never want you to do that.”

And, damn, if that isn’t the sweetest thing. “You sure?”

“Of course. Plus, I could make good use of tonight’s logs…”

Avery swats at his thigh. “You are _not_ going there.”

He chuckles, holds up his hands in supplication and then leans down to lay a swift kiss to her lips before sliding his hands up her sides, pushing her shirt as he goes. She sits up, allowing him the access to lift the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. She twists, repositioning her hands towards the clasps at her back but he stops her before she can.

He leans in close, wraps an arm around her and presses his lips to her neck. “I got this,” he rumbles into her skin. And with the simple flick of his middle finger and thumb, her bra is undone, faster than even she’s managed before.

“Smooth,” she says. He trails a line of kisses from her neck to her shoulder, chasing a bra strap as he pulls them down her arms. Her eyes slide shut. The air is cool against her newly exposed skin but it’s not just the cold that has her covered in goose bumps; it’s the raw intimacy of having herself bared like this. She honestly can’t remember the last time she fooled around with someone without her top on; rushed hook-ups in the Alliance rarely had her removing more clothing than was necessary for the bare essentials of sex (and probably, she realises, that’s a big part of the reason why sex has always been pretty unremarkable for her). So this is … strange and exhilarating and– something’s wrong. The kisses have stopped and the air is heavy with a silence that she could cut with her omni-blade. She opens her eyes to find Liam staring down at her chest, his eyes wide and mouth agape and the expression would be comical if the self-consciousness that she feels creeping over her weren’t threatening to kill her buzz.

“What is it?”

His eyes snap to hers and his expression softens when he sees the doubt that must be plain on her face. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Just … _niiice_.”

She huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Less smooth.”

“I’ll make up for it,” he says and, despite the cocky grin that she usually associates with guys who have no clue what they’re doing, she believes him. He guides her back so that she is lying again and stretches out over her, kissing her as his chest presses flush to hers and the feel of his smooth, warm skin against hers has her seeing stars. Her hands splay across his back, fingers probing gently, the ripple of his muscles a sensation she thinks she could get used to. Very used to.

_Ruminations later, remember._

His lips stray from hers and he kisses down her chin and the column of her neck, pausing to suck at the flesh over her pulse point as she sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. There’s a part of her that hopes he hasn’t left a mark because that would be hard to hide from the rest of the team but there’s an even bigger part of her that hopes he has left a mark because, well, _hot_. He moves his head lower and rains kisses across her chest until he reaches the peak of one breast and pauses, his lips poised just shy of her skin, and looks up at her, brows raised in question. And she nods. Because, of course she wants that – is he fucking kidding her?

“Oh, god,” she breaths when he takes a stiff nipple into his mouth and sucks, ever so slightly.

He muffles his chuckle against her. “Told you I’d make up for it.”

And for once she doesn’t have a comeback because his glorious, glorious mouth is just as skilled at this as it as at kissing and smartassery but she surprises even herself when his tongue laves over her nipple and she _moans_. She’s never been a vocal lover. Never had a reason to be before, she realises.

_Realisations, ruminations._

He switches his lips to her other nipple and his hand comes up to massage the breast he has abandoned. That earns him another moan and she swears she can actually feel him grinning as he swirls his tongue over her flesh. The liquid heat that has been steadily intensifying between her thighs ever since she sat down on this couch and caressed his face with her hand spikes and she’s glad she’s not standing because her legs have turned to jelly and, damn, she’s sure she has never been this turned on before but she wants more, needs more, and needs less clothes for that more.

She squirms underneath him, moving her feet so that she can use the armrest of the couch to kick off one boot, then the other. His little hum of appreciation halfway through the manoeuvre lets her know that he’s noticed what she’s doing but he doesn’t stop mouthing at her until she takes his hand and pushes it down towards the closure of her pants.

“You sure?” he asks and she nods, _of course, oh god, of course_. His eyes are smouldering when he lifts himself up so that he can undo her top button and pull down her zipper but his brow furrows as he struggles to pull down her pants. “Damn these are hard to get off. Tight.”

“Sorry,” she says only half-sarcastic. “If I’d known this was what I was going to be doing when I got dressed this morning, I would’ve worn something else.”

He shakes his head as he pulls them down her thighs. “Nah, you should only ever wear these. They make your arse look incredible.” He moves her feet onto his thighs so he can pull her pants down her calves and then off and onto the floor with her other discarded clothing.

“You’ve been looking at my ass?”

He shrugs. “Of course.”

She tries to keep the pleased look from her face but knows she’s failed when Liam flashes her a grin. She pulls him down atop her again, latching her mouth to his and wrapping her legs around the backs of his thighs. Still too many clothes.

She reaches for his belt but he shakes his head. “Not yet.” And when she frowns at him, he slides his hand down her belly, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear. “Can I?”

She sucks in a sharp breath as her core clenches at the mere thought of his hand being there. “Oh, yes please,” she rushes out, then grimaces. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

He kisses her. “Don’t try to hide how eager you are. I like it. Plus,” and he presses his hips forward just enough that she can feel the hard bulge between his legs, “same.”

Her breath hitches in her throat. “Goddamn,” she whispers against his lips, because for some reason she is utterly incapable of keeping that thought to herself.

The goofy chortle that bursts from him runs contrary to the absolutely wicked look in his eyes as his hand dips down into her underwear. He moans as his finger slowly slips down through her folds and she wants to know why _he’s_ making that noise since she’s the one getting touched but she gets her answer before she can ask the question. “Avery…” he breathes in her ear, “god, you’re so wet.”

She can think of a dozen glib things to say to that but they all fly out of her mind when he finds her clit and draws a slow circle around it. Shit, his finger’s rough but she’s slick enough that the friction is nice rather than grating. _Nice_? As though they’re sitting on his couch having a cup of tea instead of screwing around like they are. Scratch nice. Fucking amazing. His movements are a little haphazard as he finds his rhythm, long strokes followed by little rubs and swirling patterns and then finally the tight circles that she wants, that she craves, that have her moaning, and she’s dimly aware that his lips have strayed from hers to kiss and suck and nibble at her jaw, her neck, her clavicle but she is so focussed on his finger, on the tight coiling of her core that it barely registers. And so close, so close. If he just moves his finger a bit higher so that he’s above her clit rather than right on it, and if he eases off on the pressure a little, he’ll be _right there_.

His finger stills and she almost cries out a plaintive “ _noooo_ ” before she realises how pathetic and off-putting that would be.

“Tell me,” he murmurs into her neck.

“What?”

He lifts his head, kisses her, and then breathes again her lips, “Tell me how you like to be touched.”

And that knocks the wind right out of her because … _goddamn_. She feels like a fish out of water – both in the figurative, holy-shit-this-is-new sense and in the literal, can-barely-fucking-breathe sense – as she opens and closes her mouth, trying to say something, anything but instead nothing but little gasps come out. Her face is on fire and she’s so damn glad that her dark skin hides it.

He pulls back and cocks his head at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” she scrambles, nearly shouting the word. Then, quieter, “No. It’s just … no one’s ever asked–”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Idiots, then. How else can you learn what makes someone else tick? You could mess around for days without learning a goddamn thing. Best to just ask, yeah?” She nods vaguely. “But, I mean, if you’re not okay with telling me…”

“No, it’s not that. I will. Just … um…” This is new. Very new. She’s never vocalised what she needs from a partner, never thought to, never been asked. Another bullet point to be added to the growing list entitled: ‘Why Sex Wasn’t Great for Avery Ryder Prior to 2819.’

_Realisations._

She suppresses any lingering hesitancy, all embarrassment. “Alright.”

She pulls him down for a thorough kiss, lets him sink into it until he’s groaning into her mouth, tilts her hips up in welcome and waits for him to start touching her again before she speaks. “That’s good. Just a bit higher … _oh_.”

“There?” he whispers.

She bites her lip, nods, says in a voice that’s far too sultry to be her own, “There. Right there.” Her cheeks are still flushed but not from embarrassment. No. This is hot. Fucking hot. _Where have you been my whole life, Liam Kosta?_ “Not so hard,” she warns; and it’s not like he’s being rough, it’s just she’s always flourished under a surprisingly light touch. He adjusts right away, following her cues here far better than he ever has on the battlefield. “Yeah … just like that.”

“You like the circles, right?”

She nods. “And keep it slow. Until I–” She cuts herself off, suddenly aware of how bossy completing that sentence might sound. (And, yeah, technically she is the boss but she doesn’t exactly want there to be a boss in the bedroom … or storeroom, as it turns out. Because sex in the storeroom. Apparently that’s a thing now.)

“Tell me otherwise,” he finishes for her. “Got it.” He plants a kiss on her cheek and somehow that feels more intimate to her than the fact that he’s got his hand in her underwear and his finger on her, moving her ever closer to a release that she never believed anyone but herself would be capable of coaxing out of her. She closes her eyes, sighs and arches her back beneath him. _Sogoodsogoodsogood_. She could almost weep over how perfect this is; his breath hot on her cheek, his chest pressed hard against hers, his finger so light against her clit that she can practically feel her body chasing after the sensation. _Sogoodsogoodsoclose_.

“Alright?” he breathes.

She moans. “Better than– _oh_!” Her body quakes and she tenses. _Soclosesoclosesoclose_. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes! Faster now. Like that, like that…” And even over the sound of her own desperate moans, she can hear little groans and sighs coming from him and that is just so damn sexy it sends her teetering towards the edge and– “Oh. Oh! _Ohh_. Liam!”

He uses his free hand to touch her cheek. “Avery, open your eyes,” he groans, pleads. “I wanna see you.”

And when she does, the sight of his intense gaze locked onto her is what pushes her tumbling, head over heels, off the edge, the powerful throbbing of her core intensified by the sudden wash of biotics that tingle and flash bright blue across her skin.

“Oh, Avery.” He smothers her mouth in a kiss, his finger slowing, drawing out her orgasm for a few precious seconds before she relaxes, boneless and sated against the couch.

She drapes her arm across her eyes and sighs, long and deep. “Shit, that was…”

“Fucking amazing!” he supplies, as he removes his hand from between her thighs.

She peeks out at him from underneath her arm. “You’re pretty cocky about your skills, aren’t you?”

“Well, I did just do _that_ ,” he says, gesturing to her supine form. “But I was talking about the biotics. Does that always happen?”

“Not always,” she says, and despite his earlier stated ‘fucking amazing’, the patented human biotic insecurity bites. “Is it a problem?”

“No,” he says. “ _Hot_.”

She laughs and pulls him back down for a kiss. “ _You’re_ hot.” She nips at his bottom lip with her teeth. “But you’re still wearing entirely too many clothes.”

“Lose the trousers,” he says, sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor. “Got it.”

He kicks his shoes off first and she takes the opportunity to get into a kneeling position beside him, lean in close and latch her lips to his throat, tongue darting out to taste his skin. The stuttered breath he pulls in nearly destroys her but the almost pained groan he lets out after that pretty much does. He turns to catch her lips with his, kissing her senseless before standing up and unbuckling his belt.

As he shimmies out of his pants, she gets a glorious eyeful of glorious Kosta butt and– wait! What? _He has got to be kidding me._ Before she can stop herself she’s giggling uncontrollably. “No wonder you didn’t let me take those off earlier, holy shit!”

“Hey,” he says defensively, frowning at her over his shoulder, “those standard issue boxer briefs are starchy as fuck.”

“So not wearing any underwear at all is better?” she wheezes.

“Not exactly. The trousers are starchy too but they aren’t as tight to my bits as the pants.”

She covers her eyes with her hands and almost cries with unrestrained laughter. “Oh, my god.”

When she finally uncovers her eyes, the lingering laughter dies in her throat as she realises that he had turned towards her while her eyes were closed and now she gets a glorious eyeful of … well, glorious Kosta cock and– _niiice_.

“Done, are you?” he asks and she pries her eyes from his groin to find his arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised and a smirk gracing his lips.

“Haven’t even started,” she says and gets to her feet, takes a step toward him. He welcomes her into his arms as soon as she’s within reach, taking her by the waist and pulling her almost roughly into him. His kiss is just as perfect as all the previous ones of the night but there’s an added thrill to this one since she has to stand on the tips of her toes to reach him. Plus, there’s a hard cock pressed against her belly.

He tugs at the waistband of her underwear. “Now who’s wearing too many clothes?”

“Easily remedied,” she points out.

He slips them off with the predicted ease, pulling them down her thighs and then letting artificial gravity take them the rest of the way. (She’s careful to step out of them before they get tangled around her ankles and trip her up because, funny story, _that’s_ happened before.) His arms encircle her again and almost immediately his hands fall to her backside, pulling her hips flush with his. They sway on the spot as they kiss, as though they’re in some kind of trance and, really, she supposes they are. She drops a hand down between their bodies, fingertips caressing his finely-sculpted stomach until she hits the line of hair that starts below his belly button and leads further down.

She pulls her lips from his and breathes into his hear, “Can I touch you?” And of course she already knows the answer to that, but his constant asking has worked for her so there’s a good chance it’ll work for him too.

It does.

“Hell, yeah,” he says, his enthusiasm plain to hear. No hidden layers with this guy; his truth is written for all to see, feel, hear. It’s refreshing and appealing and such a fucking relief.

Her hand trembles as she slowly trails it further down, and it hits her how long it’s been since she last touched someone like this. Six hundred and thirty four years, to be technical; ten months, to be accurate. _Breathe. Breathe. You got this._ She swears she nearly blacks out when her hand reaches its destination; the first tentative brush of her fingers along the length of his erection enough for him to expel his breath in a whooshing gust of warm air against her cheek. She swirls gentle patterns from base to tip and, yeah, again … _niiice_. He takes her chin with his hand and tilts her face so that he can kiss her; the lightest, sweetest, most tender kiss he’s given her all night and … _crap_.

Feelings … hit her. Hard.

This man is without a doubt the sweetest, funniest, most genuine, attentive man she has ever had the fortune (or would it be misfortune, considering all the other shit that’s come along with the package?) of meeting. She can’t count the amount of times he’s made her laugh when she’s wanted to cry, pulled her up when she wanted nothing more than to stay down, and listened to her, long after others would stop. She could probably fall for this guy. ( _Realisations, realisations._ ) Shit, she’s already fallen out of the sky with him and survived, so it doesn’t feel like such a huge leap to think that she could fall in–

_Ruminations, ruminations. Later._

She wraps a hand around his girth and gives a slow, deliberate pump of her fist. He tilts his head back and makes a strangled noise that, out of context, would be alarming but, in context, is just fucking brilliant. She takes the opening he’s given her and kisses the exposed column of his throat, loving that she can feel the wild jump of his pulse against her lips. “Good?” she asks as she gives another pump, then another and another.

He draws in a deep breath that hitches on a moan half-way through. “Yes.”

She likes the feel of him, hot and hard and smooth, in her hand. She’s never been a huge admirer of this particular part of the human anatomy – it’s always just served as a means to a not so exciting end – but Liam’s cock looks and feels amazing. Thicker than she thinks she’s used to and just the right length that it hasn’t strayed into holy-fuck-how-am-I-gonna-fit-that-in territory. And the curve to it … that has potential. Definite potential. ( _Good ruminations. Good._ )

She steadily ups the pace of her motions – swipes her thumb across the tip, smearing the little bead of moisture that has gathered there – until he’s moaning freely (and loudly) and holy hell does that spread fire out from her reawakening core.

But without warning, he’s pushing away her hand and stammering, “Okay okay okay you have to stop otherwise I’ll…”

She smiles. Well that was an ego-boost.

“Think we can move this back to the couch?”

“God, yes,” she says. “But first, have you got a umm…?” Condom. She can think the word just fine but there’s something about saying it out loud that is just so … unsexy.

“What?” His eyes are slightly dazed, and he’s almost panting. Definite ego-boost. “Oh. Yeah. Just let me find…” He lets go of her and heads across the room to rummage through the boxes that litter the space. “I, uh, commandeered some from Dr Lexi’s stock when she was out of the Med Bay one time.”

“Hopeful, were you?”

He shrugs. “Considering what’s about to happen, I wasn’t wrong to be, was I?”

And she can’t find fault with that. She wants to ask whether he made these preparations with her in mind, or just for the potential of sex in general but thinks better of it because that could lead to a really awkward conversation that could ruin everything that’s being building up to this moment and, while she’s still happily sated, she’s not at all ready to stop exploring this.

“Wait. So if you hadn’t already stolen–”

“ _Commandeered_ ,” he corrects. “Sounds better.”

She rolls her eyes. “Right. If you hadn’t commandeered from Lexi, we’d have no choice but to stop and go crawling to her to get some?”

“Pretty much.”

She snorts. “Fucked up system, that is.”

“Hence the commandeering. Aha! Got ‘em.” He pulls out a strip of foil squares as he steps towards her, rips off one and tosses it onto the table in front of the couch. “Where were we?”

She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush together, and brings her lips close to his, just shy of touching. He gives a little groan and closes the distance, and she moans along with him as his tongue meets hers in a delicious, gliding dance. Her moan turns to a little squeal of surprise when he places his hands on her ass and lifts her.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “should’ve warned you.”

“Not a problem,” she says. “Seriously. What girl doesn’t like being swept off her feet by someone as pretty as you?” He laughs as he turns them towards the couch and makes to set her down on it, but, “Wait!”

He freezes. “What is it?”

“Um…” Her face is on fire again. Asking is new. But she’s finding that conveying what she wants rather than leaving it to guesswork is an infinitely better way of doing this. “Could we try this with you sitting? And me…”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “…on top?”

She bites at her lip and nods, and he answers with one of his more intense kisses – which is saying something because this entire night has been wave after wave of kisses so perfect that she actually feels like her lips are truly ‘kiss swollen’. (And that’s another thing she has most definitely not read in a romance novel. Certainly not one that she unlocked from her mother’s datapad when she was fourteen. Nope.) He sits back onto the lounge and she settles herself in his lap, legs curled on either side of him, his cock pressing against her mound. And that feeling is just … _wonderful_ , but she ignores it in favour of kissing him.

She could happily continue kissing him like this for hours – just like this, his tongue running along the seam of her lips before she groans and opens for him, his hands stroking her thighs, her fingers tangled into the soft hair at his nape, her nipples grazing his chest just enough to leave her tingling. And she supposes that he would be happy to do that as well since, even though they’re so close to being joined, he isn’t rushing her, simply waits for her to make the move, and it’s that patience and complete relinquish of control over to her that pushes her to the point of needing him inside her. _Now_.

She takes him in hand, giving him a few light pumps. “Ready?”

His chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths as though he’s steeling himself for what’s to come. “If you are.”

She nods. She is. She’s never been more ready for anything in her life. She reaches behind her, scrabbling blindly around the table until her fingers find what she’s searching for. She tears the packet open with her teeth and hands it over to him to do the rest. Once he’s safely covered, she raises her hips and moves forward a fraction so that she’s hovering just above him. His hands slide to her ass as she lines him up to her lips and slowly, slowly, _slowly_ pushes down. He’s definitely thicker than she’s used to; the stretch isn’t enough to be painful but it’s not exactly comfortable yet. She pauses for a moment, letting herself adjust before sliding down further.

When she’s finally taken him all in, he lets his head fall forward against her shoulder. “Fuuuck,” he groans. “Stay still for a bit, yeah?”

“Everything okay?”

He nods and takes a second to breathe deep before properly answering. “Yeah… yeah.” He lifts his head and gives her a crooked smile. “It’s just– it’s been over six hundred years since I last did this.”

“Same.” She cups his face with a hand that she notes is trembling, and runs her thumb across his full bottom lip. “When you’re ready, are you okay if I start this slow?”

He chuckles warmly. “That’ll probably be the only way I’ll last a decent amount of time, to be honest.” And why is his complete transparency about the possibility of premature ejaculation actually _sexy_ to her? Fucking hell.

She trails her fingers along his stubbled jaw, then takes his chin and tilts his face up so that she can kiss him, softly at first, until he slants his mouth against hers and parts his lips, allowing her tongue to tangle with his. His hands resettle from her backside to her hips and when he pulls at them, guiding her into a steady grind, she takes that as permission to start.

She gives her hips an experimental roll and is rewarded by him moaning low in his throat, a reverberating sound she’s sure she can feel in her bones. She keeps her motions restrained, careful to listen to his cues, of which there are many. Because he is certainly not restrained when it comes to the noises he’s making – groans, sighs, whispered ‘ohs’ and ‘fucks’ and ‘damns’ between kisses that make her yearn for more – and it’s those sounds more than anything else that fan the warm, tight ache low in her belly into a simmering fire of passion, pressure and pleasure and she’s barely even started yet but damn does this feel good, just terrifyingly fucking awesome. She steadily ups the pace of her rolling hips and his breath staccatos out as he pulls away from their kiss to latch his lips to her throat and suck. She throws her head back, letting out the moan that she’s been holding in ever since she started moving on him, and arches her spine with the motion, and the change in angle is exquisite. He steadies her with his hand at the small of her back and she can feel him start to thrust up into her, matching the pace that she has set, but the added friction makes everything feel, seem, be _more_.

_Oh, that feels good_ , she thinks and only realises she’s said it out loud when she hears Liam’s gasped, “Yes. So good.”

She lifts herself up and, using the hand at the back of his neck for leverage, she begins to thrust her hips up and down, grinding back and forth in his lap whenever she manages to take every magnificent inch of him in. The air is thick with their combined moans and she realises she has never been this in sync with a lover before, has never had each of her motions matched equally, never had a body slot so perfectly to hers that the only word she thinks can come even slightly close to being an adequate descriptor is ‘ _divine_ ’.

He shifts slightly beneath her, leaning forward while tilting her further back – the only things keeping her from falling, her hand at his nape and his hand at her back – and this shift in angle has her seeing galaxies behind her eyes when she blinks as every thrust hits the spot within her that has always been so difficult for her to find. “Oh, my god,” she whines and the sound is needy and, fuck it she’ll admit it, hot as hell.

As their combined thrusts accelerate he presses his mouth to her chest and licks a long, hot stripe between her breasts before latching onto a nipple and sucking. And holy fuck, holy fuck, holy hell does she need _all_ the more.

“Liam,” she gasps. “I need…”

He releases her nipple and moans into her skin. “What do you need? Anything. I’ll do any– _ohhh_.”

“You,” she pants, “on top.”

Before she knows it, her world spins off its axis as he stands, turns and then lays her down, his body sinking down into hers as she sinks into the cushions, and she’ll have to compliment him later on the fact that he never once parts them (because, smooth) but right now she’s too focussed on the gliding thrust of his cock hitting just where she needs it every damn time, and the kisses he’s raining down on her neck and shoulders and chest, and the noises he’s making, and the noises _she’s_ making. She squirms against him, desperate to get more (always _moremoremore_ ), and wraps a leg high around his waist. Without being told what she needs, he hooks his arm under her knee and lifts her leg so that it’s resting against his shoulder and… _fuck_. It’s almost perfect. She just needs one last thing…

She takes the hand he’s not using to hold himself up and pushes it down to where their bodies are joined. And once his finger is working at her with the same exquisite delicacy and care as earlier, it really doesn’t take long before she’s a wailing, shuddering mess, shattering apart for the second time this night, hot blue flashing across her skin in steadily decreasing waves that leave her weak and dazed and senseless to everything but the pleasure coursing through her entire body. Somehow, it’s more intense than the first, and she wonders hazily whether she’s spoiled herself with his touch and won’t ever be able to get satisfaction from her own fingers again. At the same time, she’s not entirely sure she’d care if that were to be the case because that was without a doubt the best orgasm of her life. _Fucking worth it._

“Avery… oh. _Ohhh_.” His hips stutter through one, two, three more thrusts before he drives himself home and spasms deep inside her, hard enough that she can feel it, even through the layer of latex. He holds firm for a couple of heartbeats more before he collapses against her and nestles his face into the crook of her shoulder, pressing a couple of quick kisses to her neck, right where her tattoo is inked into her skin. “Shit.”

“Yeah…” she agrees, and she shifts beneath him so that she can let her leg fall down from his shoulder and wrap it around the backs of his thighs.

She closes her eyes and presses her hands to his back, feeling the sharp expansions and contractions of his lungs as he tries to catch his breath. She’s never been much for cuddling after sex but … this is nice.

And the reality of what they just did suddenly hits her. Of course, she’s known the whole time what they’ve been doing, she’s been under no illusions about that. But it dawns on her that she just did _that_ with Liam, her squad mate and friend. And, yeah, she’s been flirting with him from pretty much the moment she met him but she doesn’t know what this will mean, what it means right now, to him or to herself. Casual sex is fine. She knows casual sex. It’s all she’s _ever_ known in truth. But one night stands never call for the amount of intimacy that just existed between the two of them and she has definitely never had sex like this, never had anything close to how intense that was. Only ever dreamed of it, late at night, beneath the covers as her own fingers coaxed her stifled release. And to have realised that dream ( _realisations, realisations_ ) with one of her best friends … well, that has the potential to complicate matters if he doesn’t want– if she doesn’t figure out what she–

_Ruminations. Later, later, later._

“Well … that all sort of came out of left field,” he says.

“Heh. _Came_.”

He props himself up so that he can look at her, his eyebrows raised, and when she stares back with the straightest face she can manage, he starts to laugh – a deep, slow chuckle that builds until he’s nearly crying with laughter. And soon enough they’re both laughing uncontrollably, their still combined bodies jostling together as they shake and gulp for air between chuckles.

When their laughter has died down, he raises himself off her, slipping out of her in the process (and she finds herself groaning at that loss), and he pulls her up with him so that they are both sitting on the couch, next to each other like when this whole thing started.

She brushes her kinky curls back from her forehead and averts her eyes as he relieves himself of his protection. “It’s okay, though, right?” she asks, looking down at her entwined hands in her lap. “I mean, we’re both adults … this doesn’t need to get complicated.”

“I’m a big boy,” he says and leans across the couch to use the bin next to it. “If one night is all it is then that’s … okay? But … I wouldn’t mind–” He huffs out a frustrated breath and she looks at him to find an adorably bemused expression on his face. “Do you suppose we could think and talk about what this all means later, when I don’t feel like I’m coming down from a really high high?”

She laughs. “Yeah. That’s probably best.”

He lets out a sigh and relaxes back onto the couch. “That’s a relief. My mouth’s an idiot at the best of times but it can get even more idiotic after sex that great.”

And she’s blushing again because, while she knew that it was great from her perspective, it’s flattering to know he’s thinking about it in the same terms. “Well, I guess I should get going…” she says and it looks like he’s going to say something but stops himself at the last minute.

She finds her clothes and starts to dress, while Liam retrieves his pants, pulls them on and reclines back on the couch. She’s got her bra and underwear back on and is reaching for her shirt when a sudden thought occurs to her and she freezes.

“People are out there, aren’t they?” she says gesturing towards the door and the cargo bay.

“Yeah. Peebee and Vetra and I think maybe Cora, too.”

“Shit.” She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb. “There is no innocent explanation in existence that could account for the amount of time I’ve been in here.”

He shrugs and points to the screen on the wall in front of him. “We could’ve been watching a vid.”

“That’s true…”

He gives her a considering look. “Hey? You … wanna watch a vid together?”

“I– yes, actually,” she says because, when she stops to think about it for a second, she doesn’t really want to leave yet. “Is that okay?”

“Wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

She smiles. “Alright.” She slips her shirt on but decides to forego the pants for the time being; if he’s happy enough to hang out while half-naked, then she’s fine with it too. And it’s not like they didn’t just, only a few moments before, fuck each other senseless. (And, yeah, she realises that ‘fuck’ is definitely not the right word for it – far too callous – but she’s not in the right state of mind to think up something more appropriate. _Later_.)

She sits back down and watches as he plays around on his omni-tool, searching for something. “Hey, I just realised something,” he says. “I just lost my Andromeda virginity.”

She snorts out a laugh. “Me too. And I’m starting to think losing my Milky Way virginity was a total waste of my time.”

“That bad?”

“Liam … apart from me, you’re the only one who has ever made me cum.”

He gapes at her for a moment. “Wow,” he says, a grin spreading wide across his face. “Everything about that sentence was great. I mean, apart from the fact you’ve had to wait this long for that to happen. But the rest? _Hot_.” He jabs at his omni-tool and the vid starts. “This is gonna be awesome.” He leans back into the corner of the lounge and reaches for her, pulls her into him so that she’s resting her head against his bare shoulder as his hand settles at her hip and … that’s nice. Really nice.

The opening credits of the vid roll and fucking hell she recognises that title music… “Blasto the Jellyfish Stings,” she laughs. “ _Really_?

“What?” he says, then in a gravelly, movie-promo voice, “‘A lover in every port and a gun in every tentacle.’ It’s a classic!”

“Technically they’re all classics now.”

“Shit, Ryder, you wanna make me cry?”

“Hmm,” she hums, “a little bit. But only because I think it would be very cute.”

He turns his head to press a kiss against her forehead. “You’re mean. And sweet. At the same time.”

She laughs and curls herself more tightly around him, settling herself in to watch the stupid movie.

***

She awakens to find a crick in her neck and the end credits rolling on the screen. She stays still for a moment, happy to listen to the soothing sound of Liam’s deep, steady breaths, before she sighs and carefully extricates herself from his arms. He actually whimpers in his sleep when she leaves his side and, shit, is that adorable. She finds her pants and shoes and gets them on as quietly as she can. She’s about to unlock the storeroom door with her omni-tool before she realises what a stupid mistake that would be. Leaving without saying anything is what she would have done in the past. But this is not the past. And Liam is nothing like any of the unsatisfactory lovers who didn’t deserve a goodnight from her.

She walks over to stand by the lounge and gives him a gentle shake. “Wha–” He startles awake.

“Sorry,” she says. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“You’re leaving?” he asks, his sleep-hoarse voice somehow more attractive than his regular one (though definitely not as attractive as his sex voice).

“I know you love this couch Liam, but it’s not comfortable enough for the two of us to sleep on all night.”

He stretches a little. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey … before you leave, I just wanted to say thanks for everything. This was, well… _you_ know.”

“Yeah … I do.” She kneels down on the floor next to him and leans over to give him a hug. “Thanks,” she says into his neck. “This meant a lot.”

His hand runs up and down her back. “Glad to hear it. And, yeah, same.”

She pulls back and smiles at him. “Goodnight.”

Before she can get to her feet, he pulls her back down for one last, lingering kiss. “Goodnight,” he murmurs as he pulls away from her.

And, _oh_ , she thinks. Because damn, _goddamn_ she just might be falling.

***

The cargo bay is blessedly empty when she leaves the room and there’s a spring to her step as she sets off towards her cabin. _Goodnight goodnight goodnight._ “ _Good_ night,” she laughs to herself.

She’s almost at her cabin when a blue blur jumps out at her from the shadows of the galley and she shrieks like she’s seven again and playing murder in the dark with Scott and their friends.

“Hiii Ryder!” sings Peebee.

Hand clutched to her pounding chest, Avery gulps in lungful after lungful of air. “Shit, Peebee! Don’t jump out at me like that you’re going to give me a heart attack. What the hell are you doing?”

Peebee smiles. “Nothing.” Again in that sing-song voice. “What about you?”

Something’s going on and Avery’s damn sure she doesn’t want to find out. “Nothing, as well. Just on my way to bed.”

“Well, goodnight then, Ryder. Sweet dreams.”

Avery opens the door to her cabin and is about to step inside when Peebee calls out to her, voice sugary sweet and dangerous as hell, “Oh and Ryder?” Avery turns and Peebee points to a spot on her own neck (a spot that lines up perfectly to the one that Avery had worried about earlier in the night) and makes a kissy face.

He left a mark, he left a mark, he left a mark. Hot but … _fuck_.

Avery bolts into her cabin, Peebee’s trilling laughter following her, and runs across the room to launch herself face first onto her bed.

“SAM?” she mumbles into her pillow. “Is the storeroom soundproof?”

“It is not, Avery.”

She groans and rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Shit. Can you tell me who was in the cargo bay while I was … in there?”

“At different times throughout, Chief Engineer Brodie, Ms B’Sayle, Ms Nyx, Lieutenant Harper and Nakmor Drack.”

She sighs. “Okay. Okay. And how many of the crew know, or at least, suspect what went on in the storeroom during that time?”

“By reviewing the logs of comm chatter, I can estimate with 99.9% certainty that they _all_ know, Pathfinder.”

“…Fucking fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU/CA/US English to UK English: pants-->trousers, underwear-->pants.
> 
> I may have written out the logs of the crew members’ conversations about this. Don’t know if anyone would be interested in me posting those as a second chapter? I think it’s pretty funny? But then again, I wrote it past midnight when I have the tendency to think that everything I do/say/think is hilarious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aforementioned logs of comm chatter from the night of.

**Peebee:** Vetra, you getting this?  
**Vetra:** Trying not to but yep.  
**Peebee:** Hysterical!  
**Peebee:** I can’t believe they’ve jumped right into it. I thought it would take them at least a couple more weeks.  
**Vetra:** Did you miss the part about me trying not to get this?

 

 **Peebee:** Gil! Guess what’s happening in the storeroom right now?  
**Peebee:** *makes squeaky mattress noises*  
**Gil:** You’re kidding! How can you tell?  
**Peebee:** Heightened hearing, my dude.  
**Gil:** Jesus … what– how does it sound?  
**Peebee:** Well there was just a heap of laughing.  
**Gil:** That can’t be good. Unless…  
**Gil:** Was it sexy laughing?  
**Peebee:** Not particularly.  
**Peebee:** But right before that there was: “Oh. Oh. Ohh. _Liam_.”  
**Gil:** Shit.  
**Gil:** So the little prick’s good at it. Surprising. Good for him. Not so much for her, she could definitely do better…  
**Peebee:** Oh! It’s started again! His turn I guess.  
**Gil:** … I’ll be right down.

 

 **Cora:** What are you two snickering about?  
**Peebee:** Heh. Cora, I think I left something in the storeroom. Think you could take a look in there for me?  
**Gil:** *muffled laughter*  
**Cora:** Oh … _that_. Leave them alone, would you?

 

 **Peebee:** Hey, Lexi. You’re a stickler for rules. What does it say in the Initiative Handbook about fraternisation amongst members of the Pathfinder team?  
**Lexi:** What? Why would you–?  
**Lexi:** Oh! It’s happening, is it?  
**Peebee:** Yep! Quite the performance we’re overhearing, too.  
**Lexi:** I do hope they’re being safe. Maybe I should take them a few prophylactics…  
**Lexi:** Wait … what? This isn’t right. I’m missing some of my stock…  
**Gil:** *laughs* Looks like they got to it first.  
**Lexi:** I can’t believe they stole from me… But, at least they’re being responsible.  
**Cora:** Even you’re getting in on this, Lexi? I know this is a small ship but can’t we all at least _try_ to stay out of each other’s private business?  
**Lexi:** I– You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right; that was very unprofessional of me.  
**Peebee:** Pffft. Spoilsport.

 

 **Cora:** Do not get one step closer to that door, Peebee!  
**Peebee:** I’m not!  
**Cora:** I’m literally standing across the room from you. I can _see_ you!  
**Peebee:** *grumbles*  
**Peebee:** Why do you care anyway? You just _know_ that Liam would love knowing that we know.  
**Cora:** Maybe. But I don’t think it would be the same for Avery, so _don’t take one more step towards that door_.  
**Gil:** Jeez, mum! Lay off. We’ll make sure to stop having fun in your presence.

 

 **Cora:** Drack?  
**Drack:** I know. I can hear it from the galley. Not interested.  
**Cora:** Me neither. Just wondering if you’d be willing to do some bouncing?  
**Drack:** Always.

 

 **Jaal:** What is all this chatter about?  
**Peebee:** Uhh. Nothing? Nothing.  
**Gil:** Pathfinder. Kosta. Storeroom.  
**Peebee:** Shh!  
**Jaal:** Oh.  
**Jaal:** In that case, I do believe you owe me 50 credits, Peebee.  
**Peebee:** Shit.  
**Gil:** You were betting on this? Why didn’t you bring me into it?  
**Peebee:** Because then I would’ve been _sure_ to lose.

 

 **Peebee:** Drack! Welcome to the party!  
**Peebee & Gil:** *sudden squealing*  
**Peebee:** Hey! Put me _down_!  
**Gil:** Put _us_ down!  
**Drack:** Not a chance, kids. You’re both going into time out.  
**Peebee:** What? Eurgh.  
**Cora:** Thanks, Drack.  
**Drack:** Happy to help.  
**Peebee:** Hey, _Cora_. Thanks, _Cora_. Way to rat, _Cora_!  
**Cora:** *chuckles*

 

 **Kallo:** Did they really have to talk about this over the public comms? I think I need a shower. Or ten.  
**Suvi:** Why? _You_ weren’t in the storeroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are sustaining me. Thank you so much!


End file.
